by Merry Farmer
Scott was embarrassed for the man. Or he would have been if he’d had a shred of compassion for him.
Sandy humphed and shook her head. “No, Ronny. Never. Not if you waited until the end of time.”
“Oh, I can wait longer than that, sweetie.” He brushed his fingers along Sandy’s arm.
Scott tensed, certain he was going to have to punch Ronny’s nose into oblivion, but Sandy beat him to it.
“If you touch me one more time, I will sue you for sexual harassment,” she said with laser sharpness. Ronny had the gall to look titillated, until Sandy went on with, “And I’ll make sure that you’re banned from sitting on the city council for life.”
Ronny’s face dropped. He sniffed, pinching his face to the point where he looked like a rat. “Fine. Play the game your way. But whatever you do, this law is going to pass.”
He glanced to Scott, nodded, then turned up his nose at Sandy as though suddenly realizing he was too good for her. When Sandy didn’t look remotely phased by his scorn, he turned and marched away, heading for the door.
Scott blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Okay, I get it now.”
“Get what?” Sandy asked.
“Why you all said that the Bonnevilles are so awful.”
Sandy huffed a laugh. “You haven’t seen the half of it.”
The group of Casey’s friends had already gotten up and made their way to the back of the auditorium, so Scott walked with Sandy up the aisle. Casey and her family had already left the room as well, which made him nervous. He’d hoped Casey would wait for him. He wanted to get her take on everything that had just happened, mostly to see if she was all right. She’d gone increasingly pale throughout the debacle of a meeting, and if he hadn’t been trapped up there on the stage, he would have been doing everything he could to comfort her as the madness unfolded.
They stepped through the auditorium doors into the hallway to find Casey standing off to the side with Ted and her dad. Scott’s moment of relief was quickly overridden by the obvious tension in all three Flints. They stood with their heads together, talking quietly, but clearly all three upset. Scott steered his steps in their direction, Sandy following.
“…causes a whole world of mess,” Roscoe was grumbling.
“Which was clearly the point all along,” Ted agreed.
“I didn’t say anything to him,” Casey defended herself, sending Scott into a protective anger for whoever had accused her of something. “I don’t know where he got his information.”
“You haven’t exactly made a secret of your feelings about selling part of the ranch, sweetheart,” Roscoe grumbled on.
“Hey, it’s not her fault.” Scott stepped into the conversation and up to Casey’s side. “She was just doing what she thought she had to in order to protect your land.”
All three of the Flints glanced to him in surprise. Scott rested a hand on the small of Casey’s back, letting her know he’d be there for her.
“I’m not blaming her for anything, son,” Roscoe said, his voice and stance rock steady. He turned back to Casey. “But there’s a way to help the situation and a way not to.”
Casey let out a breath and lowered her head.
“It’s not your fault,” Scott reiterated.
“Yeah? Well it kinda feels like it right now,” she grumbled, sounding more like her dad than she probably knew.
“If you ask me, that whole meeting sounded like the Bonnevilles have been planning something like this all along,” Sandy said.
“Which is exactly what we were saying,” Ted agreed.
“And I played right into it by giving them an excuse to set their plan in motion,” Casey sighed.
“Or you could say I started it by trying to build a house in the first place,” Scott said, shaking his head. “Or someone else could have gotten the ball rolling. It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re right.” Casey lifted her head with sudden energy. “What matters is stopping them from carrying out their plans and buying up all the old ranches. What matters is beating them at their own game.”
A shadow of a grin touched Scott’s lips. There was the fire he loved so much in her. It almost reassured him about the mountain they had to climb. “We won’t let them pass that law,” he said, though he had no clue how they were supposed to do it.
“Even if they do pass something next week,” Sandy added, “there will be all sorts of ways to challenge it legally. The potential of any historical preservation law to contradict personal property laws already in place is huge.”
“If they don’t pass some sort of other law countermanding the laws we already have,” Ted said.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Casey agreed.
“Never underestimate the power of the law to fight the law.” Sandy grinned. “I’ll start looking into solutions tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Sandy.” Casey gave her friend a weak smile.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Scott said.
“Well, the easiest way to fight the Bonneville’s new law is to stop it from passing to begin with,” Sandy told them. “And the best way to do that is to convince the city council members to vote against it.”
“It sounded like Bonneville already has the votes he needs,” Scott said.
“He might not.” Casey perked up even more. “That’s the sort of thing those guys do all the time. They think that if they can convince people they’ve already won, then no one will bother to put up a fight.”
Sandy snorted. “Tell me about it.”
She was right. They were both right, Scott was sure of it. He’d just witnessed Ronny beating a dead horse like it would get up and win the Kentucky Derby any second. And he had the impression that no matter what Sandy said or did, Ronny would keep at her until something explosive happened.
“Did I miss it? Is the meeting over?”
Scott’s brow flew up as Howie came tearing down the hall toward the auditorium. He was red-faced and wore a quilted flannel coat over a business suit.
“It’s all over, Howie,” one of the townspeople just coming out of the auditorium informed him.
“Dammit.” Howie stopped so abruptly it looked like he stomped his foot. He might have at that. He glanced to the auditorium door, down the hall, then spotted Scott’s group. “What did I miss?” he asked them without preamble, marching over to join them.
“You missed a lot,” Roscoe said. “Old Rich and his boy have come up with a doozy of a plan to buy out all the old ranches under the auspices of historical preservation.”
Howie hissed something a lot stronger than “dammit.” “Rich has been hiding that historical preservation bill up his sleeve for years.”
Scott’s brow flew up. Just when he thought he’d grasped the extent of the Bonnevilles’ machinations, something new popped up.
“Where were you?” Roscoe asked Howie.
Howie scowled and blew out a breath. “I had a sudden conference call that I couldn’t reschedule.”
“Sudden?” Scott asked.
Howie fixed him with a suspicious frown—one that was clearly meant for the Bonnevilles and not Scott. “It was about the renovations I’ve been working on for those apartments downtown. Funny, but important business about those apartments came up the last time you spoke. Dire business. Business that can’t wait.”
“Rich didn’t want you here,” Roscoe jumped to the obvious conclusion.
“And now we know why.” Howie rubbed a hand over his face.
“The council is going to vote on the new historical preservation law at next week’s meeting,” Ted informed him.
“Well, I certainly won’t have business that night.” Howie nodded. “I may not have a vote on the city council, but I can damn well be there to make my case against the law.”
“We’ll make our own case to the council members in the meantime,” Scott said, getting as swept away as any Haskellian. “We have to foil the Bonnevilles’ plans.”
“It can’t hurt to talk to all of the city council members,” Casey agreed. Her mind was already visibly at work on the problem, and she seemed to gain confidence with every second that ticked by.
Scott smiled. He hadn’t seen her so pumped up in weeks, since long before their argument. Something had been missing from her spirit since that day, but it looked like doing battle with the Bonnevilles was just the thing to bring it back.
“Why don’t we go get some coffee and plan our strategy?” he suggested.
“I need to get home and look into a few things,” Sandy said, a knowing spark in her eyes. “See you guys later.” She turned to go, waving as she went.
“Yeah.” Ted picked up on Scott’s true intentions too. “And I need to get dad home. It’s been a long night.”
Roscoe glanced sideways at his son as if to say he wasn’t in his grave yet, but he too must have known what Scott really wanted. He nodded and kept silent.
“You don’t mind giving me a ride home later?” Casey asked Scott, just enough hope in her eyes to fire Scott’s blood.
“Of course not.” He slipped his hand into hers. “We’ll just grab a coffee at the hotel’s restaurant. I’ll have you home before lights out.”
“I’ll leave you two young people to get better acquainted,” Howie said with a sudden grin. “You know I’ve been dying to get more of my employees to mingle with the citizens of Haskell. You two are exactly the kind of combinations I had in mind. Town and country, smooth and rough.”
“Who are you calling ‘rough,’ Howie?” Casey planted a fist on her hip and arched a brow at Howie. That, more than anything, gave Scott the sense that they would be okay in the end.
“You, of course.” Howie smiled right back at her. Casey laughed. Scott breathed a sigh of relief. “You two go on and get your coffee. I’m going to get to the bottom of things.”
That decided, Howie marched on to join another group dissecting the meeting in the hall while Scott and Casey headed out.
The hotel was only a couple dozen yards from the town hall, so within minutes they were seated at a table near the restaurant’s crackling fireplace, warm and cozy. The change from dire meeting to comfortable date was so fast it made Scott’s head spin.
“We will beat them,” Casey said as soon as the waiter took their order. “If I was grumpy about you buying five acres of our land, you can sure as hell bet that I’ll tear the Bonnevilles apart before I let them steal the whole thing from us.”
Scott laughed, his first genuine laugh all night. It was just the change he needed to unknot the cords that had been forming in his shoulders and neck. “You’re pretty cute when you’re fired up,” he said, reaching across the table for her hand.
She took his hand, but said, “You haven’t even begun to see me in action,” a determined light in her eyes.
Scott didn’t say anything, he just smiled at her, studying the lines of her face, the flush of her cheeks. The night would end perfectly if he could convince her to spend the rest of it in his bed, but he wasn’t going to push. Whatever was going on behind those flashing, brown eyes of hers, it needed to happen on her time.
The longer he was silent, the more her confidence melted away. “What?” she asked at last, pulling her hand away and shifting self-consciously in her chair.
“You.” Scott grinned. “I miss the firecracker in you.”
Her self-consciousness doubled, as did the color in her cheeks. “We’ve only known each other for less than two months. How can you miss something about me already?”
Scott shrugged. “You tell me.”
“Tell you what?” A sliver of her confidence returned.
“What happened? Where did all that hurricane force you threw at me when we first met go?” He tried to keep the tone light, even as they stepped over into serious territory.
She laughed, a little tenser than usual. “You liked it when I was on your case all the time, raging at you for building that house?”
“Call me crazy, but yes.” He reached for her hand again, and she returned it to the tabletop, fingers twining with his. “People tell me I have a solid head on my shoulders, but I know I don’t take nearly enough risks. You obviously do.”
“It’s not always a good thing,” she tried to tell him.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t need to be. The fact that you’re even willing to stick your neck out for me now by talking to all those city council members, when a couple weeks ago you would have carried a pitchfork at the front of the mob coming to burn my house down, is risk enough.”
She lowered her eyes. “If I’d known it would spin out of control, I—” She pressed her lips tight, then glanced up and met his eyes. “No, I still would have fought you. At least until I understood a few other things.”
“Such as?”
“Such as how much worse it could be.” Her determined frown was back in an instant. “I’m not going to let the Bonnevilles buy out you, me, or this entire town. They’ve been wanting to take over for generations, but it’s not going to happen. Not on my watch.”
The waiter returned with their coffee and the pie they’d ordered before Scott could get in a reply. He was kept from saying what was in his heart as they stirred cream and sugar into their coffee and dug into the pie. Casey let out a deep moan as she tasted her first bite, and Scott couldn’t help but laugh. In the past few hours, he’d seen her mood change at least eight times. Some men would cower in fear over the power of her emotions, but to him they were life itself.
“I keep wishing I could see you racing those barrels,” he said when the haze of post-pie contentment settled over them.
“What?” Casey perked up, on the alert.
“I’d love to see you competing,” he said. “In the rodeo. I bet you were fierce.”
A strange pinch came to her face and she reached for her coffee mug. “I don’t do that anymore,” she said, then hid her face by taking a drink.
“I still don’t understand why not.” There was something going on with Casey and rodeo, but for the time being, Scott pretended his comment was just a light-hearted observation. “If you went after those barrels the way you’re going after the Bonnevilles, I bet you were a sight to see.”
“I guess I was,” she said softly. She opened her mouth to say more, but changed her mind and chewed her lip instead.
Scott watched her, wondering if he could glean anything from the tiny lines around her eyes or the slight slouch of her shoulders. He wanted to know all of her, even the parts she was trying to keep from him.
They finished their dessert and got up, heading back to the lobby. It was getting late, and few people were loitering downstairs at the hotel. Scott slowed his steps, wanting to take as long as possible before the evening came to an end. Casey didn’t seem to be in any rush to get home either.
“I think we should go after the low-hanging fruit first,” she said, a distinct shift in her tone and posture, as they ambled slowly toward the door.
“The what?”
“The low-hanging fruit. The city council members who we can be pretty sure will vote against the Bonnevilles on principle.”
Scott was willing to go along with whatever she wanted. “Okay. Who do we start with?”
“Luna Clutterbuck.” Casey nodded, her smile lighting her up with determination once more. “She’s my best friends’ mom, and in spite of looking like a granola-crunching tree-hugger—which she is, by the way—she’s a shrewd businesswoman and our best bet for an easy vote for our side.”
“Sounds like a winner.” Scott stopped several yards from the door.
“I bet I could get us an invitation to dinner so that we could talk about it too,” Casey went on. “So when are you free?”
“Any time you are,” he said without hesitation. If he wasn’t, he could clear his calendar to make sure he was. “I’m even free tonight,” he added, taking a risk, flickering an eyebrow.
Casey blinked rapidly, her smile growing. An instant la
ter, it sank and she glanced down. “Scott….”
He couldn’t stand to see her second-guessing herself so hard. Without waiting for her to go on, he shifted so that he could pull her into his arms. She relaxed against him, letting him close his arms around her, one hand reaching toward her backside, the other holding her firmly. Her breasts pressed against his chest until he could feel her heartbeat. She settled her hands around his waist, tilting her face up toward him.
There was nothing he could do but kiss her, his lips closing hungrily over hers. She opened readily to him, which sent his instincts into overdrive. She tasted like coffee and blueberries, the perfect mix of sharp and sweet, just like her. It’d been so long since he kissed her so deeply that his whole body reacted. He went along with it, shamelessly arching his hips against hers so she could feel just how much he still wanted her.
She hummed in appreciation, but leaned back, breaking their kiss. “I miss you too,” she whispered, harking back to their earlier conversation. Her hands slid down to his backside. “You have no idea how much.”
“But?” he filled in for her, voice hoarse.
She lowered her eyes with a look that Scott couldn’t help but call…guilt. “But I’m not quite ready to go back there yet.”
He wanted to ask her why not, to lay out a logical argument as to why there was no point in feeling guilty or denying themselves something they both wanted, something that, for a short time, had brought them so much satisfaction. But if Casey said she wasn’t ready, then she wasn’t ready and he wasn’t going to push.
“Whenever you are ready,” he said, brushing his fingertips over her cheek. “Just say the word.”
“I will,” she whispered, the truth of her answer in her eyes. “But let’s fight one battle at a time.”
Chapter Sixteen
Casey walked up the stairs at the back of the flower shop to the Clutterbuck’s apartment the next day feeling as though she were fighting several battles.
“It’s cute that the shopkeepers live above the shop,” Scott said as he climbed the narrow steps right behind her.
Casey could feel his presence as if he radiated fire. Part of her wanted to spin around, pin him against the wall, and kiss him into oblivion. But too much of the rest of her was still intent to put aside her own wants and needs to focus on her family.
